


Carvings

by Averia



Series: All It Leaves Is Dust [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-15 05:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15405609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Averia/pseuds/Averia
Summary: Dick had no Superman at his side, he had a monster.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the warnings!

Both of them had known it would end one way or the other. The pleasantries and the respect had been lost over the years. Slade had degraded to a near-manic state but Dick had neither expected the mercenary would come after him in civil nor on the day his parents had died.

The sword scraped against the tombstone as it passed through his chest with no difficulty, plastering the golden lettering with his blood. A rough breath forced itself out of his lungs, shaking his whole body. His heart drummed against his ribs, echoed in his skull. Even if he by some miracle reached the door of the yard, should Slade let him get so far, he would collapse right there.  And the only accomplishment would be to grant Slade the sick satisfaction of seeing a walking corpse.

Thick warm blood slipped past his lips but he refused to cry. It was over.

Slade smiled at him in serenity, crouching in front of him with his hand still on the sword hilt as if he could not wait to twist it around a bit more.

“It will be my pleasure to find your soulmate.”

The words were dripping with malice and even through the numbing pain, Dick could feel the fear crawling up his throat.

“I’ll gladly demonstrate how you died.”

A strand of black hair was brushed behind his ear the touch so soft it made him sick. Slade studied him, listening to his rattling breath and slowing heartbeat with a gentle smile on his lips.

There was no chance Slade would find the soulmate Dick had craved for his entire life but just the prospect that the person his heart and soul belonged to might someday be at the mercy of his nemesis made him want to beg. But there was nothing he could give and he was too weak to even utter a word.

His lungs were filled with blood.

Sometimes he had reached out to his soulmate, trying to find the one person who would make him complete but he had never been able to grasp the consciousness hovering at the edge of his being.

Slade brushed the blood from his lips and despite everything else feeling numb and cold that little touch did not, sizzling on his lips as if the man was mocking his whole existence. Somehow a single tear slipped past his sinking eyelids.

“It’s getting slower,” Slade mused, tipping on the shirt he was wearing, the same time a heavy heartbeat rattled his whole being. “Let’s see it in color before it burns out.” 

Dick’s fingers twitched and Slade grinned nastily, grasping the bloodied front of the blue shirt. A ripple of pain shot through him when the sword broke more skin the moment he was yanked forward by the force. The scream escaping his throat was a mere gurgle and his eyes rolled back but he fought against the unconsciousness, knowing he would never wake up if he closed his eyes now.

Slade looked satisfied, keeping him upright with a hand around his throat but the smile fell when his gaze caught sight of the symbol over his heart.

Dick had a hard time processing the reaction, awareness dwindling as black dots danced in front of his eyes, trying to swallow his world.

He screamed when the sword was pulled out but it brought him back for the shock of a second. His vision turned black when he fell against the killer but instead of losing all feeling his chest begun to burn, his mind scattered by a force he had never felt before. The power flowed through his very being, burning him, hollowing him out.

He knew what it was, behind the burn and the pure pain was the soothing presence he had always felt. His body was not able to grasp onto anything anymore but with all his might he tried to hold onto the soul that merged so easily with his own.

He knew what dying felt like, he had enough experience with near deaths and Damian had not described it as this nor had Donna. The nothingness never came, the pain never stopped, the light never ceased.

It was as if something was pulling at him, invading him. His veins were on fire, blood was pumping through his veins as if they were going to burst.

He opened his eyes while screaming and trashing in his bonds. He threw up blood, trying not to suffocate on it. Then the pain ebbed away and with it the last bit of his strength.

He stared unseeing at the wall, body limp. Another consciousness brushed against his, engulfing his with warmth and he shuddered, feeling a spark run over his body as if summer rain was pelting onto his skin.

“Slade,” he gasped out the name because it felt right and he hated it. He hated that he finally knew who had calmed him during his early stay in the manor, who had brushed against his consciousness every time he had felt worthless, every time he had lost someone.

The same presence had engulfed him after Blüdhaven had fallen.

He easily slipped out of the bonds, his deep fear of facing Slade subsiding once he recognized his room in the manor.

Trembling hands touched the scar directly under his mark, a grotesque sign of what the relationship between him and his soulmate would forever be.

Even people in his circle had never quite believed how powerful a soul connection was until Lois had been unharmed by a fall out of a helicopter, leaving a crater in the cement. Now the burning made sense.

But Dick had no Superman at his side, he had a monster and Bruce found him minutes later in a fetal position, crying and shaking like a leaf. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that left comments and kudos. ♡

Bruce watched Dick with impending doom. Whatever had happened in the graveyard was destroying his son and he could only watch. The first day, when after crying and screaming, Dick had grown completely silent, not reacting to any of them, Bruce had felt as if he had traveled back in time once more. Traveled to a point where Blockbuster's death and Blüdhaven's bombing was still a fresh wound ripping Nightwing apart.

It was not difficult to guess who would dare to hurt Dick with such a mortal wound but Bruce had no proof and he would be damned before he spoke the cursed name out loud in front of his son.

Of course Dick acted normal when he was around others, though he was barely fooling a handful.

Every time Bruce looked at the fake smile all he could see was Dick lying in front of his door screaming and clawing at his chest in blinding pain but the worst was when Dick thought to be alone when Nightwing stood surrounded by night as silent and isolated as Batman.

Weeks passed until Bruce found enough courage to enter Dick’s permanent residency and the second Batman found the books about soulmates his stomach tightened, a foreboding feeling overcoming him when he read the titles.

“Bruce?”

Dick was staring at him as if he was lost and by all means, his heart could not take it. It was not supposed to be this way. Dick grew angry when he intervened with his son's life or at least quipped about his tendency to stalk all of them.

“Tell me what happened.”

It came out harsher than he intended and he stepped forward when Dick looked away, grabbing his shoulders to keep him close. Dick bit his bottom lip, tears in his eyes.

“Bruce.”

His name was a quiver of lips and Bruce knew without further words what he had already suspected. He knew Dick just as well as Dick knew him. His son had always loved stories about soulmates, a dreamy and longing expression on his face while he listened to them. All his life Dick had tried to catch the ever eluding soul bound to his by fate.

“I don’t know what to do,” Dick admitted, stepping closer hesitantly.

Neither of them would say hugs were common between them since Dick had come to adulthood but he had never seen Dick hesitate to get closer to him, not even when they had spit profanities at each other during his teenage years. Bruce held him closer, listened to his breathing and swore to find Deathstroke to personally throw him into the pits of hell.

“Nothing has changed, Dick. A soulmate is not the love of your life,” Bruce reminded him even though his words had barely a chance to reach him. For people like Dick, who had such a strong connection, it was nearly unheard of that the soul bond would turn out as anything but. If it did, then the platonic love was often the cause of circumstances, a mother having a strong connection to her child because of a difficult situation during pregnancy or best friends with differing sexualities. Dick had no hope for any of these relationships.

The tears were blinked away and as used as he was to that kind of behavior Dick had never held them back. Dick cried when he wanted to, always.


	3. Chapter 3

Silk sheets caressed his naked skin, soft wind brushing through his hair and he shifted, pulling his legs closer to detangle from the light blanket barely covering his body. His mind was sluggish and clear at once. He felt light as if his feet were hardly touching the wooden ground and he stepped out onto the porch, looking at the glittering sea in the distance.

Two strong arms encircled his waist, pulling him back against the older man. He turned to kiss him, his body melting against him. A shudder went through his body, his mind waking to the sensation and his want churning in his loins.

_He_

_was_

_made_

_for_

_him._

The touch of those godly rough and strong hands was scorching. He moaned when a teasing finger slid inside of him with ease, his body parting all on its own. His hands buried themselves into white hair as his lust uncoiled, hungering for more.

Dick fell down onto the soft sheets, the sea still glittering innocently in front of his eyes when his head tilted back to give a hungry mouth access to his throat. It burned, felt good and bad at the same time.

_Where was he again? Who was he with?_

His mind whispered urgently but the clarity was muddled once more when a second finger pressed into him and his body jerked and pushed down until he felt just a tiny bit more full, until he could feel knuckles pressing against his balls.

He was forgetting something -- No, not something, everything.

“Slade,” he breathed, legs parting further in clear invitation. His heart was rapidly beating in his chest, the drumming echoing in his ears like hooves of war horses.

A hand cupped his flesh, pumping once, twice before a thumb begun rubbing over the sensitive sticky head. Lips traveled lower, kissing his collarbone and soon a powerful tongue traced his mark, the elegant lines heating and moving under his skin.

“No,” he mumbled. The word a cold chill in his throat and he began to shake, the warmth lost. “No,” he said louder, heartbeat drowning out the waves and the birds. A familiar chuckle made him shake in fear and disgust.

“Fight me, darling,” was whispered against his skin and Dick sobbed when teeth closed around the scar.

He pushed against Slade, body rising against all the sensations of cold sweat-inducing revulsion. 

Finally, the too bright light made way for natural darkness.

Gotham lay quiet just outside his window but his mark was slithering under his skin, glowing in a faint golden light and a shudder of repulsion pulled through his body only fuelled by his partially wet underwear clinging to his skin in all the wrong places.

"Another nightmare?"

Dick only tilted his head, glancing at the dark brooding shadow in his doorway.

"Yes."

He could not bring himself to tell Bruce that all his attempts were in vain. Even if Slade stayed confined to his one-man cell a mile under the earth for the rest of eternity, their connection would hold as long as either of them was alive. His soul was too used to stretching out after years of trying to gain but a tiny bit of acknowledgment from its other half. Holding his essence away from Slade while he slept would take years of practice in return. Years in which Slade would take him apart in all the horrible ways the man could imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Who realizes what Dick is going through and sends Slade’s soul into oblivion?_
> 
>  
> 
> A)Kory  
> B)Damian  
> C)Raven  
> D)Reader’s Choice


End file.
